The hour zero
by Lithuasil
Summary: With the catastrophe that is the canonical endings of ME3 at our hands, here's my attempt at fixing what's broken, and giving this rich and interesting universe what it deserves. We'll see if this evolves into something longer, beyond the initial fix.
1. Chapter 1

_Authors note: Oh come on Bioware. I stood with you, when you messed the otherwise greatly entertaining Dragon Age II on the final sprint. But now this..._

_A word of advice to all of you who have yet to finish Mass Effect 3. Turn back now, while you still can. Turn back, before you have to witness the single greatest middle finger ever flipped to a fanbase in Rpg-history._

_And yet, despite all this bitterness – I enjoyed the mass effect universe greatly, and against BW's dedication to destroy it, I refuse to give it up._

_Now to fix this mess, and let's all pretend the final assault on earth, and everything thereafter never happened._

**Alliance military temporary headquarters, six earth-days after zero hour**

When did it all go so wrong? What had happened, for her to end up in a place like this. As the woman was led through the bunkers hallways, it occurred to her that she had first been asking herself these questions a little over four weeks ago.

Four weeks that might have well been centuries, for all she felt inside. Four weeks of fighting, of struggling against the seemingly inevitable. Four weeks, and in a way her situation had not changed at all. Then and now, armed men had dragged her by. Then and now, her fate had been lying in the hands of those impatiently waiting to pass judgment over her.

Four weeks, that had changed everything. The last time she went to court, she had been hailed, openly and secretly, as one of humanities greatest heroes. The last time, she had been back on earth, and she had known the men escorting her, she had been grounded but well treated.

Four weeks ago, Admiral Anderson had been at her side.

All things of the past. She would never see her comrade, her commanding officer, again. She'd never set a foot on earth again. And following the events of what the press had dubbed the zero-hour, few humans would ever remember her favorably.

And yet... even with all the time she'd had to ponder over the last few days of total isolation, she could not find it within herself to regret, to feel anything but deep relief. A sign that throughout the last few weeks her sanity had taken one too many hits perhaps, that the pressure had gotten the better of her at last.

Not that it mattered. She had made her choice, as final as the sentence she was facing. What would second thoughts matter now?

Regardless, the charges had been the same, now and four weeks ago. High treason. Genocide. Plagicide. And she was as guilty now, as she had been back then.

Armored fingers on her shoulder brought her steps, as well as her wandering thoughts to a halt. She glanced over the Marines accompanying her on both sides. A dozen men and women, armed to the teeth. N7 special forces, if the signs on their armor were to be trusted. The closed helmets, the reflecting visors allowed no glimpse at their faces, no chance to make out their feelings, while they pushed her into the elevator, while they took up defensive positions around her.

Perhaps some of them despised her, hated her. Perhaps some of them were nervous, feared that she would attempt to run, to fight her way out.

She planned no such thing. Not that even she could have hoped to take a dozen soldiers on in close quarters, unarmed and unarmored. And she would not have wanted to.

And yet, when the doors of the elevator opened into the courtroom, Commander Arya Shepard could not help but wonder, if any of those men would be part of her firing squad.


	2. Chapter 2

Jondum Bau could hear his own blood, rushing through his veins. He was nervous, even by Salarian standards. It wasn't the risk he was taking, that put him ill at ease. Not the risk for his own life, anyway. There were bigger things at stake here. Things infinitely more fragile then even a Salarian body. And much more valuable, as far as Jondum was concerned.

Regardless. Didn't matter now. He had to concentrate. Focus on the task at hand. His fingers started moving. His eyes started twitching back and forth, between the Interface in his helmet, the one on his omnitool, and the corridors they were passing. Would have been a shame, blowing their cover by bumping into one of his compatriots. Especially since he himself carried the generator that cloaked them. And then, with two armored Turians marching this close in front of him, he couldn't make out much of the corridor anyway.

Focus. The success of what little of a plan they had managed to put together hinged on his shoulders now. At the very least, the alliance didn't have any more time to prepare they had. And they hadn't built this facility. Hadn't even closed all those back-doors and master overrides in the security system. Sloppy work. But it made his task infinitely easier. Most of the security routines accepted his spectre authorizations without raising alarm. This approach would leave traces in the system, sure. But they would leave traces anyhow, one more footprint was hardly reason for concern. A voice in his earpiece, heavily distorted by the encryption protocols.

"_This is extraction team. We've the secured the secondary objective, standing by for exfil"_

With flying fingers, Jondum opened his own com canal.

"_Affirmative. Primary strike team moving into position. Emergency Frequencies blocked off. Alarms are disabled. Tapping into camera feed now."_

At the press of a button, a small screen appeared inside his helmets visor. A large conference room. A number of humans in fancy uniforms, behind one of the tables, their backs turned towards the camera. Human Soldiers. Twenty-eight armed targets within the cameras scope, on Jondums first count. Immediately, his helmets software started to display tactical information about positions, armament and threat assessment.

And in the middle of all that, surrounded by soldiers, the commander. In bad shape, as far as he could tell. Her hair and uniform were untidy. Her face was too small on the screen to properly assess damage. None the less, the tactical interface had no trouble identifying her. Com chatter opened up again.

"_Target confirmed, I repeat targets location is confirmed. Thirty plus hostiles in the immediate vicinity. No civilian targets. Proceed on schedule."_

"_I see press cameras. How long until they notice the Nefrane is blocking offworld transmissions?"_

"_Cut the chatter, and proceed as planned. Secondary strike team is in position."_

Jondums own team came to a halt. Thirty men inside, and the doors to the improvised courtroom weren't even guarded. Humans. Just too sloppy.

He moved up, cowered down while the rest of his team assumed positions to his flanks and behind him. His Omnitools cyber-warfare module began to work the moment he placed his left hand on the doors interface. Meanwhile, his right hand reached for two of the smoke grenades hidden in his armors back compartment.

"_Primary strike team in position, breaching the doors now. We are clear to engage, I repeat, clear to engage."_


	3. Chapter 3

While the soldiers all hid their faces, her accusers did not. Arya Shepard had a good look at them, from where she had been placed. At least a chair. At least she was not on her knees, no longer felt the shackles' bite. At least that much dignity she had been granted.

And what small comfort that was. She knew she had no friends in this room. For all she knew, she might not have any left in the entire galaxy. Liara... were was she now? Did she know? The mere thought sent a sting through Aryas heart.

Easier to hold the sweeter memories back. Easier to forget right away. And yet, even when she tried to focus on the gathered Admirals faces, tried to listen to the accusations, she could not help her mind drifting to the past. This was what Thane must have felt like, when he relived his murders. Arya did not envy him.

"_EDI, are you absolutely certain?"_

Six days had passed since that conversation, and yet Arya could hear her own voice clearer, then anything that happened around her in the here and now.

"_My calculations are flawless commander. I am more then capable of piloting this vessel within the required parameters and estimated rate of success is 86%."_

Back then, the fangs of doubt had still been firmly lodged into Aryas flesh.

"_So there's a 14% chance we fail, and that we turn tomorrows mission into a suicide run for everybody."_

"_With all due respect commander, it already is. The reapers entire fleet is currently fortified in the Sol system. They have a three to one advantage even to the entire united fleet. The Admirals plan of trying to force a bridgehead on the ground via frontal assault has less then a 10% chance to succeed, according to my calculations. And my calculations are..."_

"_Flawless. I know EDI, I know. But still, the price is..."_

"_Much less then we could hope to pay in any other scenario. You're doing the right thing commander."_

That had been the first time, the AI had ever interrupted Arya mid sentence. That had also been the moment when things started to spiral out of control. When had entered the airlock.

"_And just what exactly are you two doing here?"_

James Vega. She clearly remembered how much hatred she had felt that very moment, even before she knew the man had pointed a rifle at her. All that had counted was to get rid of him. To stall him. To buy the AI a few more precious moments. Enough to depart.

"_That's none of your damn business soldier!"_

But of course, the guy had to persist. Of course he had to escalate things.

"_Yeah, well I ain't so sure 'bout that ma'am. I figure your superiors don't know a thing about you sending off a whole cruiser full of explosives. So you better explain..."_

"_EDI, take off now."_

That's when he had made the mistake. He had made the mistake, him, not her. When he had threatened to ruin everything.

"_Don't move Commander. And this ship ain't moving either."_

She had heard him cocking the rifle. And the thrice cursed AI had refused to move, to obey the order. He had forced her to act. He had left her no choice. And she had acted. She had spun around, fired up her implants and disarmed him, as years and years of training and experience had taught her.

And yet even now, after six days of reliving that moment, she could not tell why she had reached for her own gun. Reflex perhaps. Maybe her nerves had just failed her. And once again, he had forced her hand, when he had reached for his com. A single message in the wrong ears, and her whole plan was doomed to fail. His fault, all his own damn fault.

At almost point blank range, her M77 Paladin carried enough firepower to pierce a Krogans faceplate. The single shot she fired left Vegas unarmored chest as little more then a smoldering ruin.

That had been when Arya had ceased to feel anything but exhaustion. She barely remembered what had happened next. How she had used her spectre authority to clear the SSV Leipzig for departure via mass relay. How Arya had waited in her cabin, considered herself lucky that Liara had not been on the Normandy. How she had waited for her arrest. Alone.

The exhaustion had not left her since. Even now, Arya had a hard time bringing herself to care about the process, about what would inevitably follow. She had done what she had to do. That was all that mattered.

And then the smoke bombs detonated.


	4. Chapter 4

Jondum Bau harbored no ill will towards the human soldiers. Considering the circumstances, he could well feel pity for them, for their situation. If things had been different – perhaps he'd be dying by their side now, fighting the reapers.

But second thoughts were not among the luxuries a spectre could hope to possess. The time for second thoughts on the matter, if there had ever been one, was long gone. The moment the smokescreen rose in the courtroom, the flashing heat signatures on his helmets display turned into nothing more then targets.

The Turians flanking Jondum had already opened fire, slowly advancing into the room, while their rifles filled the air with high velocity death. He briefly considered announcing their presence, demanding the humans surrender. Pointless. Futile. Even if they could have heard him, even if they considered giving up, they'd hardly have the chance to do so.

By now, the second strike team had entered the court-hall through a door on the first floor. More rifles, and heavy Krogan cannon started pounding at the gathered human soldiers. Jomund almost admired their tenacity. The human contingent had been on the edge, their moral at a new low. They had come under most vicious assault in the middle of their own stronghold. And yet they reacted with discipline that could have rivaled a Turian.

Mere seconds and they began to form a battle line, while a small group began to evacuate the senior officers, and more importantly the commander. The initial assault had taken a dent to the N7's numbers, but before long they met the spectres assault with equal determination.

Before long, Jondum could see the Asari next to him going to her knees. Up to now, her barrier had protected the small squad from enemy fire, but the raw physical exertion began to take it's toll. Her face was paled out, her eyes glaring with black light. But the barrier held, for the most part.

Unfortunately, the same could be said for what barriers the humans had quickly raised to guard their retreat. The engagement had only lasted brief moments, before the courtroom was cleared, before the humans had orderly evacuated, through the remaining third exit.

Jondums hand was already on his Omnitool, sealing their entrances behind them, when com silence was broken once again.

"_Strike teams, status report. Anyone wounded?"_

"_Krogan's taken a few bad hits but he..._

_I'm fine dammit, get moving!"_

One of the turian spectres took over the com channel, his voice calm and unfazed by the recent slaughter.

"_You heard him. Strike teams, regroup on me. Let's keep up the pressure."_

With both of their biotics exhausted to the point of being combat ineffective, the spectres new advance was much more cautious. The retreating human soldiers still outnumbered them by a good margin, and for all Jondum could tell, they still had someone shielding them.

Not that it made too much of a difference. With their low numbers, it had been bound to happen. They had planned for it. While the Turians went ahead, pressed to corners and ducked deep into cover, firing pot shots at the enemy, it was now Jondum doing the bulk of the work. And he was doing it well. No Alarms had been raised. He was still in full control of the base's security systems. Locking down doors, overwriting camera feeds, jamming their communication that was almost too easy. The human group just had to pass one more hallway and...

Longer, extended gunfire told Jondum all he needed to know. They were making a stand. They had finally reached a door worth breaching. An exit. Of course, for all they knew, the rest of the base had already been overrun.

They had to gather near the door to breach it. A large group of people at the end of a small hallway. Hanar in a testing tube. Still, that advantage worked both ways, and the humans had just as easy a time to keep their pursuers at bay. And for the first time, they tried to open communications through the gunfire. A human voice. Female, understandably upset.

"_Who the hell kind of mercs are you guys?"_

Jondum could already picture the angry, wounded Krogan snap a reply. He had to act, had to say something. With luck, it'd make no difference.

"_Spectre Authority! You're holding citadel personnel hostage. Surrender the Commander to us immediately, and no one will get hurt."_

Oh how much Jondum wished things would be that easy. If the council showed such loyalty towards it's left hand, they would've brought in a dozen ships instead of one. A hundred spectres instead of half a dozen. And whomever he was talking to, knew that full well.

"_Bullshit! I am a spectre, a real one. The council sanctioned this trial, and they revoked the commander's sta..."_

Jondum would have had no idea what to tell her to stall any further. But the human technicians worked quick. They had breached the doors to the admirals personal shuttle bay. The League of One operatives, that had taken up position on the landing pad, opened fire without a moments hesitation.

As did the spectres on this side of the corridor. Everyone seemed to be shooting, all of a sudden. When Jondum dove out of his cover, pistol in hand, the enemies numbers were down to five. He joined his own barrels into the firestorm.

This was a rescue mission, yes. But as delicate as the situation was... better not to leave any witnesses, better to be certain.


	5. Chapter 5

When the gunfire had started, things had turned into a haze. Arya Shepard didn't usually cave in under pressure, under fire. Not that easily.

But then... usually, things were easier, a lot easier. It wasn't the fear that kept her down. She had learned to deal with the fear for her life back on earth, long before she had even been drafted. But over the few days, locked away in a tiny cell, she had come to accept. There was no making peace after what she had done, but at least she had expected her imminent execution.

With even that little bit of certainty taken away, Arya found herself strangely unable to act. And what good would that have done? She had no idea who those assailants were, or what they hoped to accomplish. And whatever she had been injected with, prior to the trial, it seemed to numb her muscles as much as her implants.

When the N7 had retreated from the courtroom, they had dragged her along. She had followed along, too numb and confused to react properly. When they had come under fire anew, at least her reflexes had kicked in. Had allowed her enough control over her body to dive down between the fallen for cover. The same combat reflex had made her reach for a pistol.

Then Ashley had spun around.

For the trial, for this entire time, Ashley Williams had not once met Aryas eyes. Not once, until now. Was that regret? Hatred? Did she mean to end it here and now? Ashleys arm had followed her spinning motion, the gun was now almost pointed at the kneeling Arya.

A dozen shots riddled the second human spectre. Whatever emotion her eyes might have held, was washed away by a blank stare. Blood ran from her mouth, her torn throat, too many other places. Arya suppressed the irrational urge to reach for her fallen comrades body, hold it, shake it, until life came back. Had Ashley died, trying to defend her, or trying to carry out the sentence by herself? Another question that would come to haunt Arya, if she ever saw another night. One among many. Meanwhile, the guns had gone silent. She half considered putting up a fight herself, when she started to notice the familiar faces among the intruders.

Grunt. The Krogan was bleeding severely from his shredded armor. Still, hardly the worst condition Shepard had seen him in. She tried to get up, tried to speak, but her knees gave up under her, restraining drugs be damned. Before she fully collapsed, the intruding strike team had reached her. They didn't even stop, the Krogan simply grabbed her, carried her over the shoulder, more then actually supporting her walk.

Even while Grunt carried her away, Aryas eyes remained firmly locked on Ashleys broken body, lying amidst massacred alliance soldiers. Another comrade down, and dozens of good men vanquished, all because of her failures.

She only managed to avert her gaze, when the shuttle doors closed and forcibly broke line of sight. Familiar faces, familiar voices surrounded her. Grunt's hand on her shoulder didn't feel like the Krogan realized she was not in armor.

"_We're out of the things now. Don't worry, they'll hardly shoot at they're own shuttle, eh? And before they figured out what went on down there, we'll be a dozen systems away and..."_

His voice drowned out, when he left her side to search one of the lockers. For food perhaps. Or Medigel. A lot of people seemed interested in shaking her hand, or at least patting her shoulder. Few of those she would've had expected. At least her voice was slowly returning.

"_Mo... Samara. I didn't expect to see you again."_

The Ardat-Yakshi smirked, tired and wary from exhaustion.

"_I owe you Shepard. And your little friend knows a whole lot too much about me, for me to comfortably refuse her."_

A Salarian entered Aryas field of vision. She was sure she knew him from somewhere. At least he didn't seem as pleased with the slaughter as most of her current company.

"_Commander. Welcome back. Though I fear it's no thanks to the council. Even went through great length to keep most of your crew busy. But Dr. T'soni has... a lot of contacts. And most of us are sympathetic to your cause of actions."_

He placed his hand firmly on Aryas shoulder, looked her straight in the eye.

"_I know it's harsh, but you did the right thing. When you send that cruiser to blow up the mass relay... you destroyed the reapers. Saved the galaxy."_

What little sound and color it had regained, faded from the world. Arya could not help her head sinking onto her chest, and her own voice sounded far, far away.

"_No. When I sent out that cruiser... I destroyed Earth."_

_Authors Note: So yeah, here's my ending, about Shep regaining her brains the night before Admiral Hacket can start his completely insane assault on earth, and long before the color-coded space magic can happen. Hey, maybe someone enjoys it, and at least it helped me venting._


End file.
